Journeys into the bright world

Ah, a new thought was coming. "It's the leaden people of this world, the Saturn-Capricorn types, who earn the gold as the rewards of their labors. Being so securely anchored on the material plane they can crystalize the light-energy of the celestial spheres into hard cash. Who wants a golden anchor when lead can so much better serve the purpose! Let them remain as they are.

As so often happened, the new idea consolidated itself in a man-tram. The words, which seemed to come through with a pronounced East Indian accent, formed themselves as follows:

Some of the brightest spirits live in the densest pots.
It is necessary for the keeping of the flame.
Be ye, therefore, tolerant!

The modus operandi of my course of instruction within the bright world was becoming more clear. A cluster of ideas, like seeds, would be sown in my mind, but it was up to me to cultivate these sprouts and make them grow. For example, I was now seeing Saturn as the deliquescent carbon deposited deep within the earth, which over the eons becomes cystalized into the diamond capable of reflecting every hue of sunlight. I was glad that in my book Astrology, the Divine Science I had assigned diamonds to Leo, sign of the Sun. This then, was another one of the ways in which lead and gold, Saturn and the Sun, Capricorn and Leo, are reconciled.

Om mani padme hum. How many times while living on the edge of Tibet I had chanted that most widely used of all mantras, wondering what it really meant and why the Tibetans were so compulsive about winding it around on their various types of prayer wheels. "Om, the jewel in the heart of the lotus," was the most common translation. Or "Om, the diamond-souled one." I saw now that it was through this heart energy that the darkness of matter is sublimated into the radiance of the translucent Self. The circularity of the prayer wheels was, of course, another way of drilling in the archetype.

It also came to me that the secret of making gold would be discovered when scientists finally solved the energy crisis by using diamond-like crystals to harness the rays of the sun. At least a hundred regressed subjects had told me that this technique had been employed in the days of Atlantis. When there was enough energy for all, money as we know it now would lose its meaning; consequently it would be permissible to make as much gold as people wished to use. To some extent the secret of the crystals has been revealed in modern times through the discovery of laser beams, but until the power of the human soul is also utilized, solar heating and lighting will remain impractical dreams for most of humanity.

The gold produced by the earth has now become so tainted by human greed that the bulk of it has had to be returned to the nether regions from whence it came. Literally, most of the gold in existence today reposes untouched in underground vaults where it can be repurified like land allowed to lie fallow for a season. "Look not to the earth for your true gold but to the Sun, source of light and life for all time to come. Look then, to your own diamond-faceted soul."

"Oh dear," I thought. "There are more ideas than I can comfortably turn into words." Precipitating this golden shower of insights from the goddess into the lead of printers type was becoming too much like work. The experience was like going out under Patanjali's "raincloud of knowable things" without my mental umbrella and being drenched. It was a relief to be coming back now, back under my cosy closed-in skull where thoughts entered one by one, bowing and scraping before the throne of the almighty intellect.

All the same, it seemed as though this might be a line of thought to pursue. With a few alchemical tricks in our personal lives Howard might be released from an arduous job and what a blessing that would be! At the moment, however, the only way I could see was to transmute the leaden forms of words into the gold of an assured income that would meet all our needs. With a sigh I pulled myself out of our warm waterbed and trudged into the study where my typewriter awaited me. Perhaps its revolving ball was my kind of prayer wheel. After all, I was functioning in Saturn's realm now and might as well deal with him on his own terms.